Shine Something Down
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: ‘Shine something down, it doesn't have to be the sun. Just a little bit of light to light the way.’ Sara talks to her walls [GS]


**Title**: Shine Something Down  
  
**Summary**:  'Shine something down, it doesn't have to be the sun. Just a little bit of light to light the way.' Sara talks to her walls [GS]  
  
**Rating**: PG-13  
  
**Category**: Angst/Romance  
  
**Author's Notes**: Title and summary come from a song by The Wilkinsons, good lyrics them. Snippet appears as a capper to the story. 

  
**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Not making a profit. Still haven't managed to clone Grissom. Sorry.  
  
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Maybe this is where I should be. Sitting alone in some sterile apartment in the Sin City pretending that my life has a reason. Funny, that. Reason. Logic. The damn things I built my life around and I don't even have a use for them. Shouldn't be surprised really. Never was very good at living. Existing, certainly. I swear to God, if I'm reincarnated as a flower I'll probably end up as a weed growing through a sidewalk crack in New York. Can't keep Sara Sidle down, no way. 'She's the machine, the one who can stay up three nights without a second thought of bed.' 

Which is bullshit, but I let people believe. Whatever lets them sleep at night, because I sure as hell don't. I feel it necessary to point out I'm not usually this philosophical. But after the third or fourth beer, right at that point when everything fades away and all you can remember is that you never want the numbness to fade because the pain is still there, you've really got to wonder about shit like this.

Even as a kid I didn't much care for the nuclear family concept. I suppose I can thank my parents for that much. Marriage was always optional, compounded by the fact I spent my high school years without a date. When you're the only one who isn't seeing _someone_ in a small town, you get used to the idea of being alone. Not that I ever considered staying there; I wanted out by the time I was six. I got out too, into Harvard where I meant intellectual equals and dated for the first time in my life. Still, I preferred small companies of people. So yeah, marriage was never a necessity. And don't get me started on kids.

I. Don't. Like. Kids. Doesn't mean I hate them, but they're hardly my favourite thing in the world. I mean, if you think about it they don't even sound appealing. And there's enough kids screwed up from their parents, I hardly need to add to the statistic. I lack that maternal instinct; it's no great loss to anyone if I never have children.

So I never needed anybody but myself, really. Take it or leave it, when it came to relationships.

But all alone in the middle of life just doesn't feel right to me. It doesn't. I hate to admit it, but at this moment I know the truth in my illusions and lies.

"I'm all alone," I tell my eggshell walls. "All alone and I hate it. Are you satisfied?"

I need another beer. Actually, what I need is something to excite me. Love me. Ignite my passions with a simple action. A fricking answer to the silence of my existence. But it will never come, so I grab another brewsky.

As the first sip slides down my throat, I realize how ineffective alcohol really is. I have to wait for it to slip down my esophagus and into my stomach before it even begins to take effect. Sex is better, if you can get it. A good hard screw that leaves you so breathless that you really can't bring yourself to care about anything else.  But my current singleness rules out that possibility; I haven't quite reached the desperation of picking up some random guy and bringing him home. Too many bad memories attached to that one still.

Besides, I'd probably end up with some guy that reminds me of Grissom and that's the last thing I need. It's my own fault really. I crossed too many boundaries with him. But how is someone expected to work with him and not fall in love? Those hands, and those eyes. That ever-so-rare smile. And his mind. 

That's what it all boils down to; it may be one fine package it comes in, but it's always been his intellect that's attracted me. Maybe it would have been easier if I never acted on my feelings. Never asked him for dinner. Better yet, never gave into that urge to touch him. But he was upset and needed me. No, I needed him to need me. I needed to be the person he trusted with a secret. 

I guess I got that wish at least. I'm probably the only person he's ever said 'I don't know what to do about this' to. 

It's testimony of my pathetic situation that I wear that as a badge of honour. 

Another beer down and bottle number six opened in front of me. I should start the Sara Sidle Pity Party soon. A memory from my last shift flashes to mind and it commences. 

 Maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe if I was different things would work out; if I wasn't so forward, if I was more forward. If I was younger, if I was older. If we hadn't met as student and teacher but colleagues. Maybe then I would have stood a chance. My heart is cruel, and it dangles these possibilities in front of me. My brain, the one thing Grissom ever liked about me, reasons that nothing would have ever changed. The simple fact was I loved him. He didn't love me. End of story.

Logic can burn in hell, as far as I'm concerned. I still can't bring myself to believe that all those little moments meant absolutely nothing. I've stood in front of him with nothing left, risking the only thing I held sacred. I offered him a glimpse of my heart. Maybe he didn't see; maybe those emotions I was screaming merely went unheard. 

I have to believe that somewhere, on some level, there's another heart beating, another person seeking…. 

Damn, I've done it again. I can pass entire days when I allow myself the freedom to think of him. I ramble and dream so frequently I even bore myself. It's not like he's my only problem; my job is depressing, I have no real friends and pretty much everyone dislikes me. No, not dislikes. That can't be _bothered_ to dislike me more often then not.

I put my last bottle in the sink; I'll rinse it out when I wake up. I should sleep now, prepare myself for another day of work. My bedroom is the other end of the apartment, but that's not saying much. It's a small apartment, the perfect size for a single person. 

My last thought as I slip between the cool covers is that I'm not fooling anybody. But I don't need some pledge of eternal love; I'd settle for just about anything from him.

I won't get it.

~*~  
  
_Shine something down  
It doesn't have to be the sun  
Just a little bit of light  
To light the way  
(And) Turn me around  
Lead me to  
The right someone  
Show me  
What I haven't done  
I'm ready to be found  
Shine something down_  
  
 


End file.
